Born from the Briars
by anacsadder
Summary: Waluigi reflects on the bizarre circumstances surrounding his creation and existence. Rated for a little foul language.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I have a strange imagination sometimes. Maybe this is interesting and different; maybe it's just weird and ridiculous. I'm throwing it out there either way. It's one of the few stories that I've actually finished, so it doesn't feel right to just let it sit on my computer.**

People wonder why I hate him. They think I'm unreasonable. Dramatic. The truth is I am mentally and physically incapable of being any other way. He created me to be everything he is not, you see. A blessing in some ways, to be sure, but a curse in all the ways that really matter. Worst of all, the little shit will never know. Even if I told him, he'd never believe me. He is our truth. I am our lie. He is our compassion. I am our sadism. I'm not to be trusted. All of these things he made me, and that isn't even the most frustrating part.

No, the most frustrating part is the last thing he gave me. The last seed he germinated. I might have found peace in the sick miracle that is my life, if not for the last thought. The idea that runs incongruous to all other motivations and feelings in my life. And the hilariously demented part is that the sick little freak doesn't even know-!

I'm getting ahead of myself.

Plants grow and thrive when you speak kindly to them. It's the truth. I've tried it many times myself. My piranha plants may be the only things in the world I feel no urge to belittle and scorn. This is because—and Wario would call me idiotically sentimental, but I _know_ it's true—sometimes plants can absorb feelings. I don't know how else to describe it. They build them up and expel them back like oxygen. Kind emotions produce effects that even I must admit can be rather lovely. No one but me has ever heard a piranha plant hum. When a whole patch gets going, I can sit and listen for hours.

Gardening is probably the only activity that brings me any peace.

I don't know why it's true and honestly I don't care. I'm not philosophical enough to spend a lot of time reflecting on zen bullshit about interconnectedness or whatever. All I know is that it happens, and it has irrevocably affected my life.


	2. Chapter 1

One summer afternoon, a thin boy of six or seven scampered into the woods. He knew his brother would be about finished counting, and he wanted to get as far away from him and the other boys as possible. This was his chance to shine. His chance to win a game at last. Mario would never find him all the way out here.

He selected a perfect hollow space in the roots under a tree and nestled in to wait. Minutes ticked by until they turned into an hour. The boy didn't move or make a sound. It must have really been a great hiding place. He couldn't wait for Mario to wander up the path, all of his friends in tow, calling the custom rhyme that summoned all hiders from their nooks and crannies. The rhyme that meant Luigi won.

One hour turned into three. The boy's stomach lamented the passage of time raucously, but he maintained his resolve until a tingling sensation settled into his bladder. Thinking he could pop out for a quick bathroom break and hide again before anyone saw him, he attempted to rotate himself into position and crawl out. The dirt shifted under his palm and whisked his hand underneath him at a strange angle. His weight pinned his arm in place. He rocked and kicked, trying to find the hole with his legs. Failing that, he tried to fold himself in half and slide out butt first. Before he knew it, he was stuck tighter than a cork in a wine bottle.

He hollered for his brother. He hollered for his mother and father. He screamed and squealed until he couldn't scream anymore. After that, he just sobbed. When his parents and some other adults from the town found him, his face was as drenched as the crotch of his jeans.

The boy returned the next day, trudging sullenly through the forest. His green sneakers kicked rocks and sticks from his path and his tiny hands tore angrily through the bushes. "He left me on purpose, I know he did!" Little Luigi kicked the very tree that mere hours ago had held him captive. "Stupid fat-head, it's not fair!"

He plopped his butt on a tree root, put his elbows on his knees, and cradled his scowling face in his fists. "I don't need their stupid fort anyway. I'll make my own and it will be a zillion times better than theirs, and it'll be no stupid fat-heads allowed."

So he did just that. He trampled down all the weeds in the five-foot clearing around the tree. Next he set about collecting rocks to mark the perimeter of his fort. Of course he couldn't pick up very big ones, but that didn't faze him. He kept at it until his stomach finally called him away for lunch. The next day found him right back at his task, however. As the summer wore on, he began to bring snacks with him so he could stay longer.

School started, which affected the time Luigi was able to spend in his private fort. However, he still found plenty of excuses to escape there on the weekends. When Mario won at an unfairly balanced basketball game during recess, for instance, Luigi took his older brother's lucky sneakers and hid them in the tree. Luigi had always wanted a pair for himself. The store just hadn't had his size. Luigi possessed rather large feet for his age. Their parents had promised he could have the sneakers when Mario grew out of them, anyway, so he wasn't stealing. He was correcting a karmic error, and keeping the shoes safe until such time that he could wear them.

That first summer, a strange, thorny plant sprouted in the throat of that tree. It grew on into the fall, a little at a time. It listened attentively to the small boy's laments about the big brother who wanted to go trick-or-treating with his friends and left his younger sibling to trick-or-treat with his mother. The older boy who had been allotted a later curfew and wound up with more candy because of it.

Red and gold leaves withered and died in the forest, floating to the ground in great drifts that buried the mouth of the little cave under the tree. The temperature dropped. Snow filled the gaps between the leaves like mortar and solidified the mass into a block of ice. The frigid shell crawled up the tree and sank deep into the trunk. Encased in a cocoon of wood and ice, the briars continued to grow.


	3. Chapter 2

Fresh snow glimmered in a smooth, fluffy carpet along the path. Icicles clung to the skeletal remains of hibernating trees. A splash of emerald green materialized out of the pallet of white, gray, and brown. It moved at a slight jog, panting clouds of vapor. The thick jacket concealed a lump the boy clutched to his stomach. The snow at the base of the tree scattered as the boy dropped to his knees and slid a few inches. He knelt there for some time, doubled over in his attempt to catch his breath. The forest didn't move, observing the sudden splash of color and life with the sort of passive interest only the most bored individual could muster.

After several minutes, the boy in the green knitted cap lifted his head and cast a paranoid glance over his shoulder. Not a sound disturbed the snowy tree graveyard. Facing the tree, he reached into his jacket and withdrew the handheld game system. Their parents had only been able to afford one this Christmas, and the two were expected to share it. Luigi knew he would damage it if he tried to hide it inside the tree, but he was determined to at least get first crack at it. Out here, no one could interrupt him and he could play for as long as his body held out against the cold. None of that taking turns and sharing business.

Years passed. Though the brothers grew and learned the mutual tolerance that comes with maturity, the younger still returned often to that spot in the forest, to be alone and think. There were always the tests on which Mario scored a single grade higher. The games where Mario was picked first for a team. However, his troubles weren't always related to his brother these days. When he'd hit an early growth spurt, the other kids teased him. He also vented to his friend the tree at great length about his ineptitude and insecurity regarding the opposite sex.

Mario, of course, had met a lovely girl named Pauline in his late teens. The two became inseparable. _That_ had exploded into a huge point of contention around the time of its original occurrence. How had he met her? Why, they had been at the zoo and he had saved her from an escaped gorilla, of course. In true Mario, dumb luck, in the right place at the right time, sickeningly brave fashion. There was a newspaper interview. Their parents had been so proud. The whole nine yards.

Mario always had to be everything his little brother wasn't, didn't he? It almost made Luigi hate his big brother. Then that hate only made Luigi hate himself more, because only a jealous, bitter person would hate someone so brave and compassionate. Sometimes there was the gnawing paranoia that Mario had only grown into such a good person to spite and complicate Luigi's childhood grudge.

It was a vicious cycle. Luigi had to smile. He had to be pleasant and kind no matter what. He wouldn't let anyone—especially Mario—see the shame of his secret jealousy.

Pouring his heart into the forest made him feel so much better. The forest couldn't answer back. It couldn't stress him out with frustrating advice that only made him feel more helpless. Nor could it pity him. It could only listen. He could say his piece without fear of judgment and leave with a lighter heart.

Keeping a journal may have been more convenient, and Luigi realized that. His handwriting struck him as atrocious, however, and he didn't exactly relish the idea of rendering his private, bitter thoughts in immortal pen and ink. They filled him with guilt as it stood. They were stupid, ugly thoughts. He didn't even want them. He wished he could expel them into the atmosphere and watch them float away forever. He certainly didn't need anyone to accidently stumble across them and compound his guilt.

Eventually the strange briar had to branch beyond the burrow or smother itself with its own size.


	4. Chapter 3

Every spring, it re-grew thicker than before. Luigi had never seen any plant quite like it. It slithered from the rotten hollows of the tree and dragged itself skyward, wicked thorns finding purchase in the tender bark. Spiky pods the size of large marbles peeled open to reveal puffs of wispy, purple petals. As creepy as it looked slowly consuming the tree year by year, there was something beautiful in the way it cradled and protected those delicate flowers.

One careful hand—he'd been pricked many times before—idly stroked the petals as he contemplated his most recent disappointment. "I was counting on winning that scholarship. What will I do now?"

Of course the plant didn't answer.

"Maybe it's for the best. Someone needs to stay home and handle the family business while Mario is off at medical school. There's nothing wrong with being a plumber. Making those sacrifices for dad's peace of mind would be more than Mario ever did, I tell you. Sometimes I swear the jerk thinks he's entitled to everything just because he's a little bit luckier than I am."

A warm breeze whispered through the plant's leaves.

The young man buried his face in his hands. "I can't tell dad no. He needs me. It would make him so happy if I stayed. Someone has to say yes, and it has to be me. And I have to be happy about it. I'm _so tired_ of being unhappy. "

From his seated position, he gazed up at fifteen Springs of dark, twisted growth. "I wasted almost twenty years on this ridiculous grudge. That's almost two decades. Can you believe that?" He snorted. "It's weird. I feel drained. Especially with Mario out of the house. Maybe all I ever needed was some distance. Some time to miss him. I don't know."

The plant had no theories to offer on this subject either, it seemed. At least none that it chose to share.

"I guess it doesn't matter anymore." Luigi stood up, smiling a little. "All that matters is I'm feeling better, for the first time in a long time. I'll be happy about it. Besides, there's always night school."

For a while, Luigi was happy. Since Mushroom Medical Tech was so far away, Mario and Pauline eventually drifted apart. At the first sign of icky, smug satisfaction, Luigi fled to the thorns to purge his mental misdeed, but that was all. The family business consumed his thoughts for next year or so. He was pleased to find he not only learned quickly, but seemed to have a knack for the job. Customers loved him. He was polite, personable, honest, and patient. The urge to be otherwise was simply no longer in him.

There was a rumor that Mario had fallen in love with a princess. That he quit school to become a hero and a soldier in her fight against the Koopa tyranny creeping in from the south. As long as Mario remained alive, Luigi could no longer be angry or jealous about such things. Those things his older brother did… They just weren't what Luigi was built for, and there wasn't anything wrong with that. He'd found his niche. He was a successful plumber in a safe, quiet town, and he knew he was better off for it.


	5. Chapter 4

Four years passed. Weeds choked out the forest trail. The strange bush tightened its grip on the rotting tree until it was more briar than trunk. Though the flowers shriveled and dropped off with the changing seasons, the plant itself no longer died in the winter. It waited through the chill, unchanging, like a dormant chrysalis.

A man who used to be a boy picked his way carefully through the bushes, eyes sweeping the brush for familiar landmarks. The weeds in his clearing fort were knee-high, now, but it wasn't difficult to find the weed he'd come seeking. It towered above the others in all its hideous glory. Dark spikes jutted haphazardly from its slender tendrils. Purple flowers sprayed from black pods. Luigi touched one of the soothingly silky petal pompoms.

"It's exactly like I remember." He stared up into the withered tree branches. "Mario's back in town. Don't worry. I'm not complaining this time," he snorted to himself. "Some rich asshole bought the land. We're helping our parents relocate to a new town. I'll probably move in with Mario."

Here, Luigi paused as a blush crept over his cheeks. "There's a girl. A woman. Oh, man, what a woman. You'd love her. She'll never see you, but that's probably for the best, all things considered." He laughed. "My private shame. My creepy little bush. It would be hard to explain."

He thrust his hands in the pockets of his overalls and stared at the ground. "If I can find the guts to really talk to her in the first place. I never was the brave one." Then he smiled and shrugged. "I'm sure it will all work out. I have to go, anyway. I just wanted to see if you were still here. Though I don't know where you would ever go."

He caressed a cluster of flowers one last time, and then snapped them off in a single, decisive movement. A thorn drew blood from his thumb, but he ignored it. The plant was creepy, but its flowers were a wonder unto themselves. Maybe they'd impress Daisy.


	6. Chapter 5

The property was huge and it took Wario a couple years to survey all of it. Especially the forest. He was already cursing himself for coming out here so late in the evening. After an hour of walking, he was a little lost. "When I get out of here, I'm burning it to the ground," he hissed to himself.

"Was it you?"

Wario about leaped out of his skin at the sound of the strange voice in the darkness. The flashlight slipped from his hand, extinguished on impact, and rolled into the weeds.

"I hope so. I've been waiting."

The fat man dropped to his knees and fumbled for the lost light source. Several frantic flips of the switch brought it stuttering back to life. It illuminated a very thin, very sharp face peering at him from a dense, spiny bush. Pointed ears, pointed nose, pointed chin. Sitting on the ground, the intruder's face was at roughly eye level and only two feet from Wario's own face. Once he'd found his voice, Wario growled, "What the hell are you doing on _my_ land? Get out of here!"

"Wrong voice." The pointy man withdrew into the shadow of the thorns. In the absence of direct light, his eyes glowed a faint but brilliant purple.

"Who are you?" Wario demanded, getting to his feet. "Nevermind. I don't care who you are. You'd better scram before I call-"

"I'm waiting for someone," he whispered. "If I leave, I might miss him."

"I. Don't. Care," Wario repeated. "This is _my_ land, and you need to get off of it, before I make you… sorry…"

The figure unfolded and rose up… and up… and up… Wario had to crane his neck back to take in the man's full height. The eyes glowed brighter still. "I _need_ to see him. We aren't done. _I'm_ not done."

"Who?" Wario asked, suddenly more willing to negotiate verbally. The bizarre man had to be seven feet tall. In addition to being completely naked and not the least bit concerned about it… There had to be something wrong with him.

"I only know his sound." The tall, impossibly scrawny man looked off into the trees over his left shoulder. "He's been away this long before. I'm sure he'll come back."

"The property is mine now. No one else is going to come here."

"We have things to settle!" The purple gleam intensified into an undeniable white glow. "He can't just _leave_ me like this! He can't cut me loose half done! It's not… It's not right!" He grabbed Wario's overall straps and lifted him right off the damn ground. "I need to find him! I need to settle this!"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Wario put up his hands. "Let's not get hasty. If you help me out with something, I'll help you out with… whatever this is."

The man made no move to release him, but the white hot flare in his eyes dimmed. "What do you want?"

"You seem to have some athletic potential," Wario said with what he hoped was a diplomatic smile. "I need a doubles partner for a tennis game in a couple of weeks. Do you play?"

"If I help you with your tennis game, you'll help me find who I'm looking for?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure," Wario grinned.

After a moment or two of contemplation, the tall man released him. Wario fell unceremoniously into the leaves.

"Great," he muttered, brushing himself off. "Now if I can figure out which direction will get us out of-"

"This way." The stranger turned and headed briskly into the woods. "He always came from this way."

Wario hurried after the blindingly pale figure. Man he was fast with that massive stride of his. He possessed an impressive reach, too. The tennis match would be a piece of cake. "So, uh, you have a name or something, bean pole?"

"No," he grumbled bitterly, clenching his fists.

"Guess I'll have to find you one," Wario said. "And some clothes…" He wrinkled his nose and tried not to look directly at the skeletal form striding through the forest in front of him.


	7. Epilogue

And that's how that idiot screwed both of us over.

He gave me all his hate. All his anger. All his jealousy. All his vengeance. He gave me his selfishness, his self-loathing, his arrogance, and his urge to fight. He created me to be the monster he almost was, but never wanted to be. The monster that would make him sick if he found it in a mirror. He equipped _me_ to be the competitive asshole everyone hates, and I might have been fine with that.

If he hadn't also shared his love for princess Daisy with me.

I'll never have her, because she'll never want someone as despicable as me.

But in the end I guess the joke's on him. It takes confidence to approach the girl you love. It takes a touch of arrogance to be confident. Our mild-mannered, agreeable little Luigi will never dare to tell Daisy how he really feels. He lacks the stubbornness to stand up in the face of no and keep pushing until he gets what he wants no matter what. He lacks the selfishness to assume he can take someone and keep her only for himself. He lacks the arrogance to believe he is worth a princess's time.

He's as broken without me as I am without him. At least I can take my smug, jealous, selfish satisfaction from that.

**A/N: I don't normally make such short chapters, but the pacing didn't seem quite right when I had it all in one piece. Thanks for sticking through to the end of my weird little plot bunny. **


End file.
